Page 53 of For the Rest of Forever

“Good! Let’s get going. It’s what, a couple miles, right? Easy-peasy.”

Before Greg had a chance to react, Allen was out the door, shutting it behind him. The knot in Greg’s stomach tightened again, and he closed his eyes for half a second before grabbing his cell phone, stuffing it in his pocket, and exiting the SUV. Allen was already standing at the back, staring at his hiking boots, one hand resting on Greg’s hiking backpack.

Greg stopped next to him, and Allen looked up with a small smile, though his jaw was clenched. It felt wrong. Something was wrong. Allen was pushing himself for whatever reason, and they needed tonotgo now. They needed to talk.

“Allen,” Greg said, his voice quiet. He bit his lower lip and shook his head again, then he took both of Allen’s hands in his. “Darling, I think we should go back. We don’t have to do this. You don’t... seem okay anymore.” It was hard to say, but it was the truth, Greg knew. Allen didn’t seem okay.

“I’m fine, Greg. Sorry if I’m worrying you. I’m—I’m...” Allen trailed off and pulled his hands away, and then he sat heavily on the back of the SUV and lowered his eyes to the ground.

“It’s okay to not be okay,” Greg said softly, and he stepped forward and then sat next to Allen, setting his hand on top of his husband’s.

But Allen shook his head. “I know. I know that. But, no, Iamfine. Really. I was just—” He looked back up, a forced smile on his face, and then he twisted and reached back behind him. “Here’s your hiking boots, and mine too. We should get going, huh?”

Greg didn’t respond, but he took the dusty boots Allen handed him and then watched as Allen hiked up a leg and untied his tennis shoe to change footwear.

“You know, since it’s pretty flat and shouldn’t betoodusty, maybe we don’t really need the boots at all?” Allen said. He kicked off one of his shoes and slipped on his boot. “But it’s probably better if—if—if we... if we, you know, um...”

All the signs were there, staring him right in the face, and Greg had no idea what the hell to do about it. Allen was not okay again, well on his way to some sort of spiral, it seemed.

Maybe.

But then, maybe he was just a little nervous about doing something active—which was a good enough reason in itself tonotdo the thing.

Greg swallowed thickly and started changing his shoes, trying to clear his thoughts. It would be fine, either way, he decided. They’d do this little walk, maybe not even go quite to the end of the trail, and then they could head back to the cabin, and he could make sure Allen reallywasokay. It was a short, easy trail, after all.

By the time Greg had his hiking boots mostly on, Allen had finished and was standing, staring out to the west, toward the deep blue waters of Haro Strait. It was clear enough that they could see all the way across the strait to the southern tip of Vancouver Island looking to the west and to the northeastern part of Olympic National Forest on the mainland looking to the south.

The weather reallywasperfect—sunny and maybe sixty degrees, with a crisp breeze coming off the water. They’d be cool enough in the long-sleeve shirts they’d changed into before leaving the cabin. And the trail was just an easy path up on a low ledge set back a bit from the water. It was fairly straight, no real elevation changes to speak of, and very low-key.

So why was Greg so nervous?

Allen turned away from the water to look at him, and when their eyes met, he was smiling again. “Hurry up, old man. Let’s go,” Allen teased.

And Greg finally let himself smile too, because it felt good and he wanted to believe in the levity Allen was trying to infuse in the moment.

“That’s Mr. Old Geezer to you. Be respectful to your elders, you young’un!” Greg joked, earning him a laugh that sounded genuine enough. He took a deep breath as he finished double-knotting his second shoe. Then he stood, grabbed his hikingbackpack, and closed the hatch on the SUV. Shouldering his pack, he turned to Allen, who reached out his hand.

“Ready?” Allen asked.

Greg didn’t want to hesitate, so he took Allen’s hand. But he held his husband’s gaze for an extra second before answering, his voice rough. “I’m ready, but I want to be sure you’re really okay. If something’s bothering you, I’d rather we talk about it now, before we go.”

A flicker of something in Allen’s eyes sent a wave of unease through him, but then Allen smiled softly and nodded. “I’m okay, really. I want to do this. I want us to do this together. Come on, Mr. Old Geezer.”

“Alright, alright,” Greg finally agreed. “But you promise to tell me if we need to turn back?”

“Yeah,” Allen said gently.

And with another nod, Greg motioned toward the trail. “Alright, let’s go, then.”

They started out at what Greg would consider a decent pace, even for him. Allen’s steps seemed confident, and they held hands as they walked. The trail, initially wide enough for vehicle traffic, narrowed after about a quarter mile until it wasn’t much more than an overgrown single-track path of partially flattened grass. Greg moved behind Allen, letting Allen take the lead so he could set the pace, and they followed along as the trail skirted the top edge of the low hills overlooking the water. It was peaceful, and he began to relax as they continued on, occasionally stopping to take in the view.

It wasn’t until they’d gone maybe a half mile or so that Greg noticed it. And it was subtle at first. Just their pace slowing down slightly and an occasional tight shrug of Allen’s shoulders. Then it became a little more obvious as Allen stopped chatting quite as much, his responses becoming slower and less articulate, their easybanter becoming stilted. The next time they paused to admire the view was when Greg really knew something was wrong.

Allen’s hands were shoved in his pockets, and his face was pale, except for his cheeks, which were flushed and red. And he was visibly shaking, his breathing heavy and his expression taut.

Greg stepped closer and was just about to ask if Allen was okay, when Allen suddenly dropped his chin to his chest and let out a shallow, shuddering breath, his whole body swaying.

“Greg? Greg, I think I—”

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